


SASO Fills: Haikyuu!!

by ewagan



Series: SASO 2017 Fills [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dreams, Dreamsharing, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewagan/pseuds/ewagan
Summary: Haikyuu!! fills for SASO2017 Bonus Rounds.





	1. Akaashi/Bokuto/Kuroo: Inception AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here]()

“You’re not the only one who misses him!” Akaashi shouts and Kuroo feels it like a punch to the gut, because he thought he missed Bokuto before but Akaashi saying it out loud makes it even more real. There’s a gaping hole in Kuroo’s chest where Bokuto used to be and now it’s patched up with bits of dreams and memories of laughter. But Akaashi blows the hole wide open again, and Kuroo could almost throw up from the feelings that overwhelm him.

“Fuck you.” he says quietly, turning on his heel to leave.

“He wasn’t only yours to mourn.” The door clicks quietly behind him, Akaashi’s words following him even as he walks away. Some days, on days like these when their words are too sharp and the shred each other apart, Kuroo is almost certain that Bokuto had been the only thing that held the three of them together. While he and Akaashi respect each other, and he’d go as far as to say like each other, he definitely did not care for Akaashi the way he loved Bokuto.

He doesn’t know how to be them without Bokuto, even as he pushes the needle and and presses the plunger, until the Somnacin takes him under and he’s standing on the beach, Bokuto grinning at him. That’s how he knows it’s a dream, these days. He dreams Bokuto into being, with his laughter and his enthusiasm, wild mood swings and beautiful dreams, gold eyes and ridiculous hair.

He dreams and he dreams, until the ache in his chest eases just a little. Akaashi knows about this, but he has his own grief wrapped up neatly, tightly. Kuroo doesn’t understand, does not want to understand how Akaashi can package all the emotions and put them aside for another job, then another.

“You can’t go on like this.” Akaashi tells him bluntly, after a botched test run where Kuroo’s grief had bled into the landscape, draining everything of colour while the buildings creaked with the weight of it. But Kuroo also doesn’t know how to manage it, lets Akaashi take his hands and clasps them in his own. It’s a gentle gesture, and Kuroo chokes back a sob as Akaashi rubs circles along the back of his hands, and the grief comes pouring out. He cries and cries, until he’s exhausted and Akaashi is rubbing his back soothingly, murmuring soft nonsense. He cries himself in an exhausted sleep, while Akaashi watches him.

Kuroo dreams that night, a real dream for the first time since he’d ridden the high of Somnacin. He and Bokuto had jumped headfirst and never looked back, and Akaashi had joined them later until they were running jobs together, a formidable trio out to conquer the world.

“Hey.” Bokuto is soft at the edges, unlike the clarity that came with lucid dreaming. Kuroo runs to him, and Bokuto catches him as Kuroo hugs him tightly, unwilling to let go.

“You gotta let me go, yeah?” Bokuto whispers into his hair and Kuroo simply presses his face into Bokuto’s shirt, inhaling the smell of him.

“I _can’t_.” Kuroo whispers, fingers clutching at Bokuto. He’s so afraid that he will forget, that the line between dream and memory will blur, that he will wake up one day and realize it was all a dream, that he dreamed Bokuto because he wanted someone to love him.

“You can.” Kuroo knows that tone of voice, the certainty that fills it. It’s the same one that convinced Kuroo to dive into dreamshare, that said  _ I love you _ in the mornings, at night, at the tail end of voicemails. “Don’t make me a shade, yeah?”

The dream blurs out after that, and Kuroo wakes up feeling exhausted. He’s surprised to see Akaashi sleeping next to him, and he thinks it’s the first time he’s actually seen Akaashi after all that happened. Properly seen him. Akaashi’s face is pinched and drawn, the bags under his eyes a testament to how little he’s been sleeping despite all their dreaming. He knows he’s no better, his elbow sore with trying to find a vein so that he can keep dreaming Bokuto is here.

But Bokuto isn’t, and it’s just them now. And now that he’s actually looking, Kuroo can read the devastation and the fear that lines Akaashi’s face, the exhaustion and the unhappiness in the line of his mouth. But Kuroo can recognize also devotion when he sees it, the loyalty that ties Akaashi to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers softly, reaching for Akaashi's hand. Akaashi’s eyes slit open, but his fingers tighten around Kuroo’s reassuringly.

Love comes in many forms, and it isn’t always a giddy rush of feeling that sweeps you up, the way Bokuto had been exuberant and daring. Theirs is not a love story like his and Bokuto’s, built on laughter and trust. It is built on quieter things, like grief and loyalty and understanding, and learning to let go.


	2. Bokuto/Kuroo: Time Traveller AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they always see each other in the same eras, but neither of them ever thinks to ask when the other one's from. (au where both of them are time travelers who have never met in the present)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10835730#cmt10835730)

_ Tokyo, 1935 _

 

He doesn’t expect to run into Bokuto here, in a town hall where there are people dancing. But he’s there and Kuroo’s lips quirk in a smile, a bit fond, a bit mischievous. He’s laughing and charming people, the way Kuroo’s seen him do before in another time, another place.

He makes his way across the floor, until he is standing behind Bokuto. “Hi stranger.” he whispers, and Bokuto spins around.

“Kuroo!” The smile that spreads over Bokuto’s face is blinding, and Kuroo wonders if he remembers. “Hey.” Kuroo wonders if he’s imagining it, but Bokuto sounds a bit wistful. Perhaps he’s projecting, but they’re in the middle of another war now. He’s glad to see Bokuto, even if it’s just for now. There is a war going on, and young men are rather short-lived during times like these.

A voice that sounds very much like Yaku’s tells him this can’t last, he won’t keep finding Bokuto. There’s a job that needs to be done, and he’s not supposed to get distracted. It can wait for a dance or two, he decides. He grabs Bokuto’s hand and lets Bokuto swing him into a enthusiastic Charleston, all awkward limbs and frantic movements, much like Bokuto himself.

 

* * *

 

_ Okinawa, 1972 _

 

“Hey.” Kuroo grins up at the stranger a lazy smile. Kenma tell him he looks like a cat when he smiles like that, which Kuroo usually takes as a cue to drape himself over Kenma, much to Kenma’s annoyance.

“You look a lot like a stray cat I see near my house.” The stranger tells him, voice matter-of-fact.

Kuroo considers him a moment, then very seriously tells him. “I’m actually a cat. I got transformed into a human by some witch.”

The stranger’s eyes go wide, eyebrows shooting up. “Are you serious? That’s _so cool_ .” There’s a note of awe mixed with excitement in his voice, and Kuroo can’t help himself, he bursts out laughing.

It takes a minute for the other boy to catch on, but he does and Kuroo’s well on his way to stitches by then. “Shit, you were lying to me, weren’t you? You’re terrible!” Kuroo can’t quite breathe while laughing, but being shoved at doesn’t help matters at all.

“Sorry, sorry.” Kuroo’s still chuckling. “I’m Kuroo. What about you?”

“I’m Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou.” The boy introduces himself, chest puffed up. Kuroo’s more than amused by this point, but Bokuto seems like a fun guy, if a bit gullible sometimes.

“I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Well, you looked really serious when you said that.” Bokuto protests. Kuroo snorts in response, shaking his head. “Besides, who’s to say things like that can’t happen?”

“Fair point.” Kuroo’s seen enough strange things, so he supposes it’s not really implausible that somewhere, some point in time, there was a cat turned human.

“Say, how’d you feel about jumping off a cliff?” Bokuto asks him, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Kuroo’s only response is to grin at him and let Bokuto haul him up.

 

* * *

 

_ Ibaraki, 2014 _

 

“You’re here.” Kuroo’s head whips up, and he spies Bokuto smiling down at him.

“So are you.” He offers Bokuto a lazy smile and pats the ground next to him. He’d nearly dozed off before Bokuto had come, but he doesn’t mind having Bokuto here. He closes his eyes again and stretches, behaving very much like a cat laying in the sun. He can feel Bokuto settling down next to him

“It’s so strange I keep running into you.” Bokuto comments, and Kuroo cracks an eye open.

“What do you mean?”

“Only that I keep running into you, in all these times and places.” Kuroo’s eyes widen and he turns to stare at Bokuto.

“What do you mean ‘all these times and places’?” Some of the pieces are beginning to come together, and Kuroo’s not sure if they’re right.

“Would you believe me if I told you I could travel through time?” Bokuto stretches, not looking at Kuroo.

“Are you a jumper?” Bokuto’s head whips around to look at him, and Kuroo’s staring back at him. It never occurred to him before, and he doesn’t know why. There were signs, and Kuroo usually prides himself for being quick on the uptake.

“Are you one too?” Bokuto asks, eyes wide. It reminds Kuroo of the first time he’d run into Bokuto, and he can’t resist a smile.

“I’m a cat in human form, remember?” Bokuto stares at him for a long moment, then reaches out to swat at him. Kuroo’s cackling, but Bokuto’s grinning at him.

“You’re such an ass.” Bokuto pronounces. “C’mon, I wanna show you something.” Bokuto’s getting up, brushing off his trousers and offering his hand to Kuroo.

Kuroo smiles and grabs Bokuto’s hand, and they jump.


	3. Kunimi/Kageyama: the last snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on home, and how it changes.
> 
> prompt [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11631849#cmt11631849)

“Welcome home.” Kunimi’s voice is soft, eyes sleepy when he looks up from his laptop and spots Kageyama in the doorway. It’s late and Kageyama’s tired; travelling always seems to take a lot out of him.

“I’m home.” And he is.

 He never quite understood it when he was younger, how home was a person and not a place. Kageyama has never cared much for his surroundings; as long as he had his volleyball shoes and a volleyball nearby, he was fine.

For a while, home was the squeak of shoes on a volleyball court, the sting of Suga-senpai’s friendly backslap, the demanding shout of Hinata asking for a toss, and Tsukishima’s disdain. It was growing into his shoes and learning to be a setter that could bring out the best of his players, in a way that would not leave him aching and hollow like middle school had.

Home now is the quiet of Kunimi, the smell of fabric softener and sun, the warmth of a cup of tea in his hands, just how he likes it. It is a far cry from the contentiousness of their middle school days and the strange awkwardness of their high school days, the aftermath where they learned to navigate each other in a way that did not tear open old wounds and rip each other to shreds.

Kunimi now is not much different, still quiet and unassuming, a distinct preference for being left to his own devices. He quit playing volleyball after high school, went to Osaka for university and Kageyama had not heard from him again, for a while. Not until they had bumped into each other again in the supermarket, Kunimi visiting his parents and Kageyama home for the weekend.

In between volleyball and university and growing up, Kageyama’s not quite sure how they ended up here. But he’s grateful for Kunimi, the way he allows Kageyama room to breathe even as he goes back to his laptop, doubtless another report or a piece of code he was still trying to coax into working. Somehow, he knows what Kageyama needs from him even without Kageyama’s clumsy attempts to articulate.

Kageyama’s not dumb, per se, but Kunimi’s always been brilliant in a quiet way that leaves Kageyama breathless. Even now simply watching him frown at his screen, Kageyama wonders how to explain the lump in his throat and the relief that Kunimi seems to invoke in him, the gratefulness that came from being understood and accepted, especially with their turbulent past.

“You should go take a shower,” Kunimi reminds him gently, and Kageyama is suddenly aware of his travel wrinkled clothes and the smell of recycled air that clings to him.

“Yeah,” he answers, but he goes to sit next to Kunimi instead, leans against him until Kunimi shifts and they settle again more comfortably, the quiet clack of the keyboard and the smell of detergent soothing Kageyama.

Outside, it begins to snow.


	4. Kunimi/Kageyama: harbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on missing people when they are gone, and the things that matter
> 
> prompt [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11631849#cmt11631849)

Early morning is a time for contemplation, and for yearning. Kunimi knows this even as he finds himself at the water’s edge, his windbreaker wrapped firmly around him. He’s barefoot despite the cold, toes curled into the sand. He appreciates the quiet of the pre-dawn, though usually he’s still asleep at this time. It’s oddly soothing in the easy rhythm of the waves crashing, fog still hanging heavy over the water.

It’s strange being at a seaside town in the off season, when people are few and the winds are strong, but he’s not made of paper and so easy to blow away. He walks a little further, a little closer to the water’s edge. It’s as good a place to stop as any, so he sits, burying his toes in the sand.

It doesn’t take very long before he can spot someone else on the beach, plodding towards him. Kageyama is barely awake when he joins Kunimi, hair still mussed from sleep. He settles down next to Kunimi and leans on him, head heavy on Kunimi’s shoulder.

“You’re up early,” Kunimi murmurs. Kageyama grunts in response, pressing closer to Kunimi.

“Missed you.” he mumbles, barely audible.

The thing with being a professional volleyball player is that Kageyama is more often gone than not, and their relationship consists of texts and missed calls, blurry photos and fuzzy video calls when they can manage. Neither of them are inclined to talk very much, and very often, calls involve them sitting in silence until one of them falls asleep. He can feel Kageyama’s absence almost like it is a physical thing, the third party in their relationship that he and Kageyama work around without words.

Kunimi understands this, and yet- something in his chest yearns for Kageyama when he is gone, like a sunflower reaching for the sun. It’s rare that they’re even in the same city, never mind together long enough for them to go somewhere else. So he laces his fingers through Kageyama’s, watches the tide roll out even as the horizon starts to lighten and the fog starts to dissipate.

He knows that on some level, Kageyama looks to him as an anchor point, a certainty in a life that is uncertain. He has dreams and ambitions to chase, pedestals to stand on and the world to prove himself to. Kunimi has smaller ambitions, things like earning enough to pay the bills, trying not to kill their newest houseplant and remembering to cook meals regularly instead of living on conbini food or leftovers his mother packs him. They’re so different, Kageyama with his bold ambitions and Kunimi’s desire to be left alone, but they fit together in a way Kunimi finds hard to explain, for all his purported brilliance.

But there’s no real need to explain it, he supposes. Some things just are.

“M’cold.” Kageyama mumbles, pressing closer to Kunimi. His arms slide around Kunimi's waist, hands tucking into the pocket of Kunimi's windbreaker. Kunimi sighs and wraps an arm around Kageyama, muttering about idiots who didn’t dress for the weather.

A faint hint of red starts to tint the sky, and they watch the sun rise together, breathing deep.


	5. Kunimi/Kageyama: radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gestures, and the things that matter.
> 
> prompt [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11631849#cmt11631849)

The radio crackles as it plays another old song, something Kunimi remembers his mother humming to him as a child. It’s just the two of them in the apartment, Kageyama’s arms around his waist, both of them swaying around their tiny living room vaguely in time to the music. 

For someone so graceful and fluid on a volleyball court, Kageyama is surprisingly awkward here, uncomfortable even. Kunimi’s amused, because Kageyama had been the one to suggest it.

“Is this as romantic as you pictured it being?” Kunimi asks, hiding an amused smile by resting his head on Kageyama’s shoulder. Kageyama’s frown deepens, but Kunimi’s learned that there are different flavours to Kageyama’s frowns. There’s a confused one, a sad one, an angry one, one specifically for when he can’t find the volleyball shoes he wants, another for when practice hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped.

This one mostly suggests confusion and a touch of surprise, from what Kunimi can observe. “Not really,” Kageyama admits. “It’s kind of nice though, if you ignore the music and the swaying.” he adds, like an afterthought.

Kunimi huffs a soft laugh. “That’s the whole point though, else it’d just be hugging.” he points out.

“I like hugging you.” Kageyama tells him, painfully honest and earnest, the same way he had been in middle school and through high school, the same way he’d told Kunimi he had wanted to be friends again, after everything.

It’s something Kunimi hates about him, and loves. Kageyama now is still similar to the way he was in middle school, straightforward and blunt, though over the years he’s learned some finesse and patience. His hands still curve around a volleyball with familiarity, though now they have learned the shape of Kunimi’s face and curve around his hands with a similar frequency.

“You don’t need an excuse to do that, you know.” Kunimi says quietly, but he leans into Kageyama nonetheless, shuffling his feet a little as they continue swaying in the middle of the living room.

“Yeah.” Kageyama’s arms tighten around him just a little, just like the way Kageyama twines his way around Kunimi’s heart, vines growing on a wall.

“Would you sing me a love song if I asked?” Kunimi asks him as the radio crackles into static behind them. It’s old and he has no idea where Kageyama found it, but it hadn’t been very difficult to get working despite its age. It was unreliable though, and terribly prone to static. Kunimi’s not sure why they kept it.

“I’m not very good at singing though.” Kageyama shifts, and Kunimi pulls back a little to get a better look at Kageyama. He’s almost certain Kageyama’s blushing, and his lips are curving in a small smile.

“What happened to your sudden adventurous spirit in all things romance?” Kunimi quips lightly.

“Well, if you want,” Kageyama trails off, but Kunimi’s shaking his head already.

“It’s okay. I was just joking.” His smile is faint, but the look Kageyama gives him is steady and Kunimi thinks he sees too much, when Kageyama looks at him this way. “It’s enough that you’re here.” he says, finally. That was all it really was, capitulating to Kageyama’s requests without much protest, doing things he’d never normally do.

He rests his head on Kageyama’s shoulder as they sway to static, and Kageyama begins to hum softly.


	6. Oikawa/Kageyama: aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22341.html?thread=12595269#cmt12595269)

There are things about a relationship that Oikawa misses, from the quiet comfort that comes with someone’s physical presence, to the shared laughter and a sort of emotional intimacy he doesn’t get with anyone else, not even with Iwa-chan or Makki or Mattsun.

Learning to breathe again was the hardest part, in the aftermath. Oikawa’s never been good at functioning outside of a relationship; he knows this. He needs someone else to remind him to eat, to sleep, to stop him from pushing himself too far. He had been lucky to have Iwa-chan for the first eighteen years of his life, but that had stopped when they parted ways for university. He’d muddled through the first few months of university, then landed himself in a series of not-so-serious relationships, until Kageyama had happened.

The thing with Tobio-chan had gone up in flames, like he’d known it would. They’d gone too hard too fast, and combined with their past, it was a recipe for disaster. Mattsun had told him that they were a burning tyre fire waiting to happen, and he wasn’t wrong. It lasted longer than Oikawa had thought it would, in all honesty, but he was almost certain it would end badly when they started. It didn’t stop him from trying though.

For all his faults, Kageyama had been blunt and earnest, and that had been something Oikawa had appreciated. He’d been the one to tell Oikawa  _ I don’t think this is working _ in that painfully honest way of his, even though Oikawa had been happy enough to gloss over the cracks in their relationship. Oikawa wonders when he’d gotten so smart and perceptive about these things, when Oikawa himself was still happy enough to deny it.

So Kageyama had walked out, and Oikawa had been angry with him for it. It didn’t matter their relationship had been difficult and fraught with tension as much as there had been good times; he hadn’t been ready for it to end then, and not in the way it did. 

With space between then and now, Oikawa supposes Kageyama had been right to walk out. It doesn’t make it hurt any less though, nor does it absolve him of the things he’d said to Kageyama then. Many of them were unkind, some downright cruel. He knows he owes Kageyama an apology, but he wonders if he deserves forgiveness, after what he’d done to Kageyama. 

Perhaps it was best to let things lie, and let Kageyama be free of him.


	7. Bokuto/Kuroo: Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22341.html?thread=12885829#cmt12885829)

They are the reckless and the wild, breathing in stardust and neon lights. Kuroo’s hand is curled in his as they run, laughing as they duck into another alleyway. Kuroo’s hand clamps over his mouth to muffle his giggling while Tora and Lev tear past, yelling Kuroo and Bokuto’s names, swearing vengeance. He never feels as alive as he does when they are running together, from mischief, from the law, from their ordinary lives.

Kuroo is like something plucked from a dream, careless smiles and an easy manner, with a mischievous streak to match Bokuto’s. Yukie is constantly sighing at how much trouble they manage to get into, but between her and Yaku they still haven’t quite managed to corral Bokuto and Kuroo at their worst.

They could be so much together, and Bokuto thinks about it sometimes. He dreams about taking Kuroo’s hand and running, leaving and never coming back. With Kuroo at his side, he feels invincible, unstoppable. There is more to life than the expectations that sit on their shoulders, and Bokuto feels it most in moments like these, when his hands are curved around Kuroo’s face and it’s just the two of them, breathing close and teetering on the edge of something more.

He’s never learned to live a smaller, quieter life. Bokuto lives for the moments like these, for the rush and the adrenaline in his veins, the way he only has to turn his head and he can see Kuroo by his side, laughing with him. And maybe Akaashi is right to worry and Kenma is right to disapprove of their recklessness, but Bokuto doesn’t know how to be less than he is. Staying put has never suited him, not since the time he learned how to run, how to jump, how to dream bigger dreams than the ones people approved of.

He tried, once. But the itch remained, a restlessness under his skin that told him to run, to keep moving. So he’d kept moving, kept running, until he’d met Kuroo, who had secrets and edges tucked into the curve of his smile, who had taken his hand and jumped with him.

He can’t remember how to be without Kuroo now, with his pockets full of secrets and terrible ideas, stars in his eyes and languid kisses like waves against the shore. With Kuroo he was  _ more _ , he was better, his wilder ideas tempered by Kuroo’s more cautious nature. And yet, they were always running into new things, new lives, new experiences.

He doesn’t know how to give it up.

Kuroo’s backlit by the streetlight, but Bokuto can make out his ever present smile, and leans in to kiss him.

“Hey, you ready for another adventure?” Bokuto asks.

Kuroo’s smile is sharp and dangerous, a lovely thing. “Always.”

His hand is warm in Bokuto’s as they take a few steps before they break into a sprint, laughter on Bokuto’s lips as they jump to another time and space.


	8. Hinata/Kenma: love and lists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make lists in your head about what you want in a lover, like brown hair and a sweet voice. A sharp mind and a soft heart, a sense of humor that actually makes you laugh like you mean it. This and that. And it’s all bullshit. Because people aren’t lists. And I’ve always wanted to be the person who made someone realize that. I want to come across someone with a list in their head that is nothing like the person I am, and I want to show them what they didn’t even know they were looking for. People who think they know what they want are fooling themselves. Nobody really knows what they want.  
> Not until it’s right in front of them.  
> \- Anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/23665.html?thread=14261873#cmt14261873)

_ things to look for in person for a relationship _

  * quiet
  * loyal
  * smart
  * good at games
  * will get along with kuro
  * will line up with me to buy games, or will line up to buy the game for me
  * likes apple pie
  * patient
  * not a morning person
  * careful
  * energy conservationist



 

Hinata is a lot of things. He’s exuberant, he’s noisy, he’s easily excitable and he’s exhausting. He’s a morning person, he’s a bad singer, he does everything with so much enthusiasm that just watching him makes Kenma tired. He’s terrible at games and cheers Kenma through boss fights, watching explosions and magic with rapture.

He’s nothing at all like what Kenma wants from a partner, not a long term one at least. He’d always figured he’d wind up with someone more like Kuroo, laid back and easy-going. Hinata’s almost anything but, with his energy and excitement. He comes up with ridiculous ideas and sets about them, enlisting help from Tora and Inuoka, sometimes even Fukunaga. They throw Kenma a highly unwanted and unsurprising surprise birthday party, but Kenma finds himself enjoying it despite that. When Hinata turns to him, slice of apple pie held at the ready, Kenma can’t help the smile that creeps over his face

He gets along too well with Kuroo, if anything. They gang up on Kenma and drag him places, makes him  _ participate _ . Coupled with Bokuto’s nonsense and Hinata’s awe of him, Kenma finds himself the voice of reason most of the time when they come up with wild ideas to ride the trains all night, hop on the next bus to Nagano, go to Nara and feed deer. He wonders how Akaashi deals with Bokuto sometimes, and if the reason for Akaashi’s eyebags were because he’d stayed up late dissuading Bokuto from another impromptu trip to Miyagi or wherever it was that caught his fancy.

Hinata’s careless and clumsy in his excitement, tripping over his own feet but picking himself up just as quickly. He’s always smiling and turning back to look for Kenma, an outstretched hand that Kenma takes, and allows to fit at his side, allows to take him places, old and new. He’s an entirely different person from anyone Kenma could have imagined himself being with. If anything, he’s everything that Kenma doesn’t stand for. He rushes headlong into things without thinking, he gets caught up in the moment far too easily, he could talk off a person’s ear if they gave him the opportunity.

Somehow, he’s still everything Kenma could want.


	9. Kuroo/Yaku: how i loved you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you.  
> \- My Father's Tears and Other Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/23665.html?thread=13885553#cmt13885553)

memory is a funny thing, in the way it smooths out friction and contention, preserving people at their best, forgiving the worst of their flaws. 

see i remember you best in the mornings, your hands curled around a cup of coffee and your hair sticking up in a million places  
but you’d smile at me and that smile would say _i love you_ like nothing else did  
i forget you’re like a hibernating bear in the morning, that you hate being disturbed, and you hated it even more when kenma called you at 3am to go line up and keep him company   
and boy did you complain, because if you couldn’t sleep, then neither could i  
but you rolled out of bed and got dressed and went anyways, because kenma’s your friend, and you’ve been doing things like this for him for years  
and maybe you’d complain enough to wake the entire neighbourhood, but you’ll do it anyway because you care that much about your friends 

i remember you in late afternoons, practicing volleyball with bokuto despite the fact we’ve spent all day playing and practicing, and everyone else is content to lay down and stop moving  
i wondered how you still had energy to do that when kenma looked ready to expire and even lev was ready to call it a day  
i forget you staying up late at night to do stupid things like move the furniture two inches left, so i kept bumping into things and you laughed when i cursed you out after the seventh stubbed toe  
how later you begged your way back into my good graces, dragged me out for yakiniku and cleaned the bathroom for a month  
until you did it again a few months later and i was ready to smother you with your pillows 

i remember you before matches, telling us cheesy things that help pull the team closer, make us less of six individuals and more of a team  
i don’t think i ever told you how much it comforted me, how much it helped me get ready for a match even though we all complained it was dumb and long winded and unnecessary  
i forget the bad puns and the terrible jokes, all the set up for a punchline that made me want to throw shoes at you  
i think i served a volleyball at your head once, just for that  
i’d still do it again, honestly 

i forget a lot how much i love you, in all the small things and the big, in the things i don’t remember and the things i do  
loving you is loving the good and the bad, and sometimes it’s stupid hard especially when you’re singing ponponpon again, even though you know i hate that song  
but i think i love you best when you’re here with me 


	10. Kageyama/Kunimi: wisteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more questionable poetry /shrug emoji
> 
> _For there are two kinds of forgiveness in the world: the one you practice because everything really is all right, and what went before is mended. The other kind of forgiveness you practice because someone needs desperately to be forgiven, or because you need just as badly to forgive them, for a heart can grab hold of old wounds and go sour as milk over them.  
>  \- Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/23665.html?thread=13767281#cmt13767281)

did you know wisteria plants need to be pruned,  
sometimes cut down to the stem so that it can grow again,  
become something new, something better  
lest it chokes itself to death?

it is you and i, and all our old scars,  
resentment and memory piled over it  
wounds that never healed right  
growing, growing  
without direction, slowly choking 

forgiveness is bitter on your lips, on your tongue,  
it doesn’t feel right, and it fits you ill  
and yet- 

forgiveness is cutting back  
for you, for me  
for the old wounds that need to heal right  
for the wrongs we did each other  
for new growth  
and a chance to blossom


	11. Bokuto/Kuroo: paper planes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15027176#cmt15027176)

One letter, two; a hundred letters he can’t send. There’s no one here to receive it, not when Bokuto’s gone to live his dream, when he’s out there being the more he’s always dreamed of being. He’s always been something special, Kuroo knew. He’d just never really guessed how special, he supposes.

The letters are scattered across the room, some folded into paper places, others tiny scraps written on the back of receipts. Some of them are stupid, like  _ so you know that drain you said i was gonna trip over one day because i never pay attention, well. i finally did and i fell on my face. yaku laughed himself sick at me, now i have a lump the size of an egg on my head. you can’t see it because of my hair like, bless my bed hair, at least it’s useful for something. _ others are shorter, smaller.  _ hey, i miss you. _

Being adult’s not all it’s cracked up to be, in Kuroo’s opinion. Sure he has a decent job and it pays well enough and he doesn’t hate it, he’s got Kei-chan and he doesn’t have to share his tiny apartment with anyone, but beyond work and occasional meetups with friends, there’s not much beyond the occasional visit to his parents. He cooks, he cleans, he shops and he goes about life. There are new friends, from work, from university, but he thinks he misses Bokuto most. He misses Bokuto’s spontaneity, the trips to nowhere at strange times of the day, the way he lit up around Kuroo, how he understood some things about Kuroo on an instinctual level.

He winds up on the roof, a box of letters in his arms and Kei-chan twining herself around his legs, purring softly. There’s a good wind going, so he thinks he can hope that maybe these will go where he wants them to. It’s a tall order, going through time and space, but hey, he’s allowed some wishful thinking, and maybe wishes did come true. He can’t remember who was it that told him about sending letters on the wind, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

So with his arms full paper planes, he’s standing at the edge of a building, waiting for the wind. Then slowly, slowly, he lets them go, watches as the wind carries them out of sight. Maybe someone else might find them, but he hopes that at least one reaches its destination.


	12. Kuroo/Yaku: night sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15511528#cmt15511528)

Kuroo’s always been certain of a few things in life. He knows he’s determined enough to get whatever he wants, but he also know that he doesn’t want anything big or fantastic. He’s happy enough to go to university, graduate, get a job he’s good at and buy an apartment once he’s saved up enough money, maybe a cat or two.

But Yaku dreams bigger dreams than Kuroo does, so he he takes off like a rocket ship, a straight line cutting through the sky and into the darkness of space, steady and unwavering and utterly certain of his path. He gets into the program he wants to and it’ll take him far, far away, light years and galaxies away. Kuroo’s not sure how to feel, his chest constricting with emotions.

 _I’ll come back one day,_ he tells Kuroo, the day before he leaves. They’re sitting outside a conbini nursing separate drinks, Yaku with his coffee and Kuroo with his juice. It’s blessedly cool, spring slowly edging into summer.

“Close your eyes.” Kuroo tells him, and Yaku glares just to be contrary. “Promise it’s not gonna be a prank. Really really.” he wheedles. It doesn’t lessen Yaku’s glare. But he does close his eyes after a minute, so Kuroo leans over and presses a small kiss to Yaku’s cheek.

Yaku’s eyes fly open but his gaze is steady and unnerving, hand on his cheek. Kuroo shrugs, because it’s not like this was a secret. They just like to pretend it is, to let this happen in smaller gestures like sitting next to each other, study sessions for university, a drink where none was asked for, bickering and compromise and horrible nicknames, small concessions of ground with each step.

It’s not much, but it’s theirs and well, Kuroo thinks it’s enough, when Yaku turns to see if there’s anyone around before pulling him in for a kiss, a secret for both of them to keep.

 

* * *

 

Kuroo believes that vending machines exist in in between spaces, and even more so when confronted with vending machines like this. There’s none of the standard array of drinks, only labels with words like _sentiment_ , _memory_ , _nostalgia_ , all vague and abstract in their contents. The vending machine glows and promises a surprise for 100 yen, and Yaku’s not here to stop him, so he inserts the coin and selects _sentiment_ , wondering what was likely to appear.

It’s a slim envelope, square and unassuming, smooth waxy paper folded into deliberate shapes. On the other side is blocky handwriting, familiar from class notes and scribblings in the team notebook, a name he hasn’t seen in awhile in the corner.

 _A reminder I’m always closer than you think._  
_Yaku Morisuke_

The envelope opens easily and Kuroo doesn’t know what to make of it. It one of those impossible things, like the taste memory of summer on his lips, heat and salt and icy sweetness. Stars shimmer gently and there’s darkness in his hands, but it’s barely bigger than a handkerchief, a piece of some distant sky.

They’ve never been much for romantic gestures. Yaku’s got his feet solidly planted on the ground for all that he’s shot off into space, and Kuroo is still practical at heart. He might be more inclined to whimsy, but with Bokuto as a best friend, well. He and Yaku are more like an old married couple than two boys stupidly in love.

But sometimes, they are just that. Two boys stupid in love, even if on the verge of adulthood now, even if far apart. So he slides it back into the envelope with a small smile, because Yaku is secretly a sap and Kuroo is not so secretly an even bigger one.


	13. Oikawa/Yahaba: reaching for the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A remix of [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22341.html?thread=13640517#cmt13640517)

“You should be proud, you know.” Oikawa says later, when it’s just them closing up the gym, Iwaizumi having gone ahead after Oikawa told him to leave. He passes the keys to Yahaba, who catches them mostly out of reflex. He doesn’t feel very proud, as they walk through the mostly deserted school to the staff room. Mostly tired and resigned and woefully, woefully underprepared and unqualified for captaining their volleyball team.

Oikawa waits while he goes to return the key, and they stop at the konbini on the way to the station. Yahaba fusses with his bottle of tea while Oikawa chatters on, munching on his milk bread, almost carefree. He wonders how is it Oikawa seems to take greatness and responsibility so easily on his shoulders, wearing it seemingly effortlessly. He’s aware that there’s a lot of hard work put in behind that appearance of effortlessness, but even so.

“You’re quiet today, Yahaba-chan.” Oikawa remarks, now folding the wrapper of his milk bread into tiny squares.

“I’m just not sure I can do this.” he mumbles, staring at his shoes.

“Why, Yahaba-chan! Are you telling me all my hard work training you has gone to waste?” Oikawa’s face is scandalized, but he sobers up when Yahaba looks at him somewhat reproachfully. He sighs and unfolds the wrapper, smoothing it out and refolding it again, the sound of plastic crinkling while they both try to figure out the right words to say.

“You don’t have to be me, you realize that?” Oikawa finally says, still fiddling with the plastic wrapper. Yahaba casts a sideways glance at him, but Oikawa’s looking at the clouds, at the sky, seeing something that Yahaba doesn’t.

“But-” Yahaba starts to protest, but Oikawa hushes him.

“You’re not supposed to be me. Just you. Whoever you are, whatever you are, as long as you give your best.” Oikawa finally looks at him, and Yahaba swallows. He doesn’t know what to make of Oikawa’s expression, intent and careful, like there’s more he wants to say. “You’re a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Yahaba-chan.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Yahaba mumbles under his breath, then Oikawa’s hand is on his chest, right above his heart, hovering.

“It doesn’t have to feel like it.” Oikawa is too close and intent and serious, staring at Yahaba and Yahaba doesn’t know how to look away. “You just have to believe in it.” Then he moves away, putting distance between them again. He doesn’t look away, until Yahaba feels something like conviction take hold inside him, sprouting quietly beside belief and faith.

“Yeah.” he says softly. “Yeah, okay.” It doesn’t have to be now, it just needs to be there for when he needs it. Oikawa is solid and dependable next to him, like he’s always been, something to aspire to, but Oikawa’s also sitting next to him here, telling him it’s okay not to fly so high, reach so far.

They’re still high schoolers, after all.


	14. Oikawa/Kageyama: antebellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/25713.html?thread=16001393#cmt16001393)

“Hey.”

“Oikawa-san.” Kageyama’s shoulders stiffen, then relax again. Oikawa drops into the seat next to him and slumps over, forehead pressed against the table. Then Oikawa straightens up, rolls his shoulders and asks about Kageyama’s classes, asks if he’s sorted out the problem with his roommate yet. He does all this while he pulls out his books and his notes, ever organized, ever efficient.

So Kageyama tells him, pausing in his own work for a moment. And Oikawa listens, dropping dry comments here and there, offering a little helpful advice in regards to Kageyama’s errant roommate.

When he came to university, he was surprised to find Oikawa here as well. So had Oikawa, judging by his reaction. But after multiple run-ins, Oikawa’s become less stiff, extending a cautious friendship and a roundabout offer of help.

He knows the rules. They don’t talk about middle school, they don’t talk about high school. They don’t talk about volleyball. They don’t talk about Oikawa’s knee. He asks about Oikawa’s classes instead, when they have lunch in the cafeteria, asks about the internship Oikawa’s applying for. Oikawa invites him on outings with his friends sometimes, and Kageyama spends more time watching Oikawa charm people than participating.

Sometimes, he wonders what he would give to go back to the first year of middle school, before everything changed. For all the good, there was also bad. Karasuno had taught him to be more open, more forgiving, more unselfish. But he also wonders what it would be like if he could go back now, the things he would do differently, the things he would change.

But he supposes if he changed all that, they wouldn’t be here now. Older now, edges rubbed raw and aching but also healing. Oikawa now is quieter, less chatty than Kageyama remembers, but perhaps that had been because of Iwaizumi. Kageyama has never known Oikawa without Iwaizumi, and now he’s learning.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Oikawa one afternoon, when they’re both at the park instead of their classes, walking along the path. Oikawa’s attention is elsewhere, but Kageyama’s watching Oikawa. He knows he’s breaking their unspoken rules, but he’s been thinking about this for a while now. Kunimi and Kindaichi were not the only ones he’d hurt in middle school with his carelessness and ignorance. “For middle school.”

“Tobio-chan.” Oikawa’s tone is warning. Kageyama knows, but he presses on regardless.

“I just wanted to say it. I owe a lot of people apologies for then. I hurt a lot of people. Like I hurt you.” Kageyama’s looking at his shoes now, too earnest, still a little naive. He doesn’t say anything else, and they walk in silence for a little longer. He thinks he’s said enough, and he’s also said what he’s wanted to say.

“You’re not the only one.” Oikawa’s voice is soft, tired. “I owe you an apology as well, for the way I treated you.” Kageyama glances over at him, and Oikawa’s looking at him. He shrugs, and Kageyama knows this is as much as he’ll get from Oikawa now. Kageyama’s learned when to push, but this is not one of those times. Despite the apologies, there are wounds that still hurt, still ache.

So he just nods, and they keep walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ewagan)!


End file.
